#Aquaman (2018)

[gracelaurie]

Innocent | Ed Warren x Reader

pairing : Ed Warren (Conjuring) x Female Reader

summary : You have been frequently bothered by a bride ghosts since you were little. But as you grow older you feel increasingly disturbed and you ask for help from Ed and Lorraine Warren, a demonologist, to help you escape the curse.

Instead of focusing on the exorcism case this time, you are caught up in a hot affair with Ed Warren.

After all, who would refuse his cock?

warning : full of smut, cheating, masturbation, virginity loss, unprotected sex, p in v sex, breeding kink, rough sex.

for another patrick wilson ff ➡️ masterlist

You snuck into Massachusetts Western University, Wakefield. You’re obviously not a student there, you graduated from uni last year. You knew that Ed and Lorraine Warren would be lecture in there so you disguised yourself as a student.

You’re wearing a white shirt matching with a black short skirt that is above the knee. Your beautiful legs are covered with sheer stockings.

Because of your appearance, many men stare at you stunned, even women seem to steal glances at you. You’re really beautiful and different from others. Your outfit is certainly the opposite in the 70s, but it’s not because of your outfit that makes many people admire you, but because you have a beautiful face with hair that looks very soft.

You have responded politely several times when several people tried to get to know you, and they were surprised why they had never seen you here.

Even though you attract attention there, you remain focused on your purpose here. The thought that told you to focus appeared when you saw the bride's figure appear again at the end of the room while Ed and Lorraine Warren were teaching in front. The bride looks at you with red eyes, and blood comes out of her eyes.

The blood dripped on the floor and when Lorraine walked backwards and stepped on the blood, in an instant the figure disappeared.

Lorraine gasped. She froze in place, looking at the floor which now had no blood at all- then she saw you.

Ed grabbed his wife’s shoulder, and he asked, “what is it, hon?”

“Nothing,” said Lorraine briefly, her eyes still looking straight at you. Ed followed his wife’s gaze, and he’s looking at you now.

“We have to,” Lorraine stopped because she was still trying to digest everything, “we have to continue this.”

Ed nodded, he then turned the video back on, “A French-Canadian farmer with no more than a third-grade education yet after he was possessed, spoke some of the best Latin I’d ever heard.”

You looked at the screen seriously. Suddenly you felt goosebumps, but when you looked to the side of the screen, you saw Ed caught staring at you, then Ed immediately continued talking, “S-sometimes backwards.” said Ed, who surprisingly, he’s stammer.

“He’d been molested by his father, who had also tortured him repeatedly.” Ed said still unable to take his eyes off you.

You realize this. It seems like you stole Ed Warren’s attention since Lorraine stared at you intently- she knew and could feel that you were being followed by the ghost. But her husband gaze at you... seemed different.

To ensure that, you pulled up your short skirt and crossed your legs. Your thighs are clearly visible in the sheer stockings which makes Ed even more unable to focus.

“A dark spirit…” Ed’s hungry gaze at your thighs, made his wife, Lorraine, suspect her husband’s strange behavior. Ed nervously continued, “A dark spirit made its home in- in th- this man.”

“Now, if you look into his eyes, you can see him tearing blood.” said Lorraine. You watched carefully and felt increasingly goosebumps all over your body.

Again, Ed couldn’t stop looking at you. You know that just by looking, you know this is wrong. He’s a married man and maybe they already have children. But you can’t deny that you like being seen by Ed, you feel like you want to tease him again.

“And like that…” Lorraine said while glaring at her husband and you alternately, “an upside-down cross started to appear from within his body.”

“All right, Drew, you can hit the lights.”

Suddenly everyone raised their hands to ask questions. You are surprised by this, not because of the enthusiasm of the class so that everyone wants to ask questions except you, but you are surprised because you feel like you didn’t get anything from their explanation.

Because Ed keeps looking at you and you in your seat keep teasing him. It seems like no one noticed, but if anyone in the room noticed besides his wife, they couldn’t blame you. He’s hot.

You can feel Ed and Lorraine’s relationship immediately strain. After answering questions from various students, they immediately left the room at a fast pace. You immediately follow their steps towards their car.

“Hey,” you said walking over to them as they were about to get into their car, “hey, I need your help.”

Before Ed could reply to your words, you quickly said, “I’m not a student here. I’m not even from this city, I came all the way here because I got news that you were lecture here, and...”

“That ghost bride….” said Lorraine still looking straight at you, “she follows you all the time, wherever you are.”

“And the worst part is…” you lowered your head, “she was the one who made my best friend die. I was driving a car, and I saw her figure right in front of my car, and I was fooled, I...”

“I’m sorry about what happened…” Ed said looking at you guiltily, then he looked at his wife who seemed to be trying to digest something, “I’m sure we can help…”

Lorraine turned to her husband. Don’t know why he really wants to help you even though they were very busy handling other cases that they should have investigated right away. Of course Lorraine wants to help you, but she feels bad instincts between her husband and you.

She knows that you have seduced her husband and his husband can’t take his eyes off you, but she had seen everything through her vision, about a bride ghost who always haunts and disturbs you.

“Of course we can help you,” said Lorraine smiling at you, gesturing for you to get into their car.

When you got into the car, Lorraine’s smile faded as she looked at her husband. She knew that something like this would happen, they had been together for a very long time, she knew that one day her husband would give another woman his gaze as if he wanted to strip her naked. But she didn’t think she could bear this much pain, however she had to focus on her purpose this time to helping you.

“How long have you been bothered by that ghost?”Lorraine asked when you arrived at her house.

You thought that the house will contain terrible things, but it turns out that all of them have been stored in one room. Her house is the same as most houses, classic interior design, and various paintings... Lorraine said that her husband likes pictures.

“When I was little,” you said, then you looked at Ed for a moment. And you realize that you look at him too often, “I don't remember exactly, but I could see her when I was 6 years old.”

“I felt very scared. especially when I no longer live with my parents, I...” you give up. You can’t control yourself from looking at Ed. His proportional body makes you want to be fucked by him.

“I'm not from this country. I studied in America and I have graduated from university and now I live here.” You could feel Ed constantly looking at you.

You bit your bottom lip, “I was alone, in the past if I was disturbed every night I could ask my parents to look after me. I know it was the actions of a spoiled child, but now everything is different, I endure all this alone, and I’m afraid...”

“You are not alone, we are here to help you...” said Lorraine holding your hand gently, “can you explain to us what you experienced…apart from your friend’s accident?”

You think for a moment, then you say quietly, “she often comes into my dreams, I don’t know, she always says something but I never remember it. And the weird thing is, I feel like I dreamed of her only for a moment, maybe 2 minutes ago, and when I woke up, it was already morning.”

“Ed...” said Lorraine softly.

He nodded his head, “yes hon?”

“Can you be here accompany her? I will be right back.” said Lorraine as she stood up. And then she whispered something to her husband, making you feel strange. She turned to you and smiled faintly then left the place.

“Where did she go?” you asked as Ed now sat down next to you.

“She’s just… want to do her thing.”

“No, you always work together. I don’t believe that.” you said feeling suspicious.

“And you believe what?” said Ed, “After you showed me your thighs and bit your sexy lips while me and my wife were lecture in there.”

Ed’s soft fingers touched your pink lips, his thumb combing every corner of your lips while his other fingers held your chin.

You let go of Ed’s hand with a slow movement. “No, Ed, we can’t.” You said trying to avoid eye contact from him.

Ed grinned, “Why not?” he tucked your hair behind your ear, holding your chin, “look at me.”

You’re looking at each other now. You can’t help yourself when you see Ed in his formal suit and tie... his body is very proportional with his very handsome face. You only looked into his eyes for 5 seconds and you immediately kissed Ed’s lips hungrily.

Ed kissed you back, your fingers undoing Ed’s tie. He kissed your neck aggressively, then with quick movements he placed your entire body lying on the sofa. He took off his suit and shirt, as did you at the same time taking off your shirt.

When you were about to take off your skirt-- Ed, who was already topless, bit your neck and then said in a deep, hoarse voice in your ear, “leave the skirt in place. as are those filthy stockings...”

Ed ripped your sheer stocking right at your cunt. He moved your panties to look at your pussy. You could feel Ed’s fingers playing on your clit. His thumb rubs your clit with lazy movements while his other 2 fingers into your cunt.

You groaned in pain, Ed said, “damn, 2 fingers won't really go inside. You’re so tight, honey.”

“You're a virgin huh?” said Ed, who was still playing with your clitoris and with his fingers, you could only nod weakly.

“What a surprise.” You felt his fingers force their way into your vagina making you scream in pain.

You can hear Lorraine calling her husband because he heard your moan, “don't worry hon, this is part of the exorcism I’m doing. I can do it myself.” Ed lied so stupidly.

“Ed...please...” you let out a weak moan, you looked at the door of the house which was still wide open, “Ed... shouldn't we close the door first?”

His fingers slipped from your cunt. He started to unbutton his trousers. You can see his cock which is so big and hard in front of you.

You can feel his cock starting to enter the walls of your cunt which are already very wet. He kisses your thighs which are still covered in stockings then enters his entire penis into you. Makes you groan in pain and shed tears.

You felt sore because Ed’s big cock was inside you, but you really liked it.

“Ed, we have to close the door...”

Ed now put your legs over his shoulders and fucked you very aggressively, he answered, “That's not necessary. If someone else passes by this house, at least they can see what a slut you are.” He squeezed out the last word by thrusting his cock deeper into you.

You were drunk with the pleasure he was giving you. You accidentally said a sentence you didn’t want to say.

“Ed Warren.....a sexy demonologist that I just met. A married man that would exorcise all the demons in my body. Please have my baby, put it all in me…. I want you..” you moaned as he insert his cock into your wet cunt with fast movements.

Ed looked at you with pity, “I really wanted to see you have my baby the first time I saw you with those thighs that were so tempting... obey me and be a good slut.”

You nod and you feel increasingly excited and want to climax when Ed kisses both of your tits and licks your nipples while still inserting his large penis inside you.

“Ed... I want to cum.” you moaned when Ed bit your nipple.

He then kissed your collarbones then you could feel his rough breath on your neck now. He kissed your neck then you felt something flowing inside you.

He releases a lot of sperm inside you. With nothing left. His big cock was still inside you when Lorraine caught you both in the living room.

“So, can we start now?” She asked with a straight face, “of course you can do an exorcism faster than this, right, Ed?”

Ed chuckled, he still hadn't removed his cock from inside you, “yeah hon, give us some time to get dressed again.”

Lorraine left the room still with a straight face. But you know that she really jealous and hurt because she obviously heard all your moans and can imagine how great your sex was. But she can’t do anything for that because she wants her husband to be happy.

You kissed his lips as he pulled his cock out of your pussy, “that was amazing.” you said then he smiled happily.

Your still naked bodies stood up and Ed hugged you from behind, “ready for round two?”

***

[doormatty3]

Blizzards and Beef Stew - Chapter 1 (Patrick Wilson x FOC)

Masterlist Ao3

Blizzards and Beef Stew Masterlink

Summary

[Patrick Wilson x Original Female Character] [Patrick Wilson x Original Character] Éléanor had always adored winter: its snow, its crisp air. But what she treasured most was retreating to her cosy cabin in the Swedish mountains. There, she could bake, sketch, and enjoy the solitude, far from the noise of the world. At least, that’s how it used to be���until a new neighbour arrived. Patrick Wilson was tall, charming, and with a smile that seemed to melt the coldest days. As they struck up a friendship, Éléanor found herself drawn to him, even though he remained oddly secretive about his last name and evasive about his work. But when a fierce snowstorm trapped them both, it became clear that Patrick might just be the warmth she needed in more ways than one. OR: Patrick uses his body to warm up Éléanor in the snowy mountains.

Wordcount: 3412

A/N: If you wanna be tagged for the next chapter - just let me know

Éléanor took a deep breath as she stepped out of her car, the crisp mountain air filling her lungs. Sweden was stunning at this time of year, with the snow-draped scenery stretching out before her like an untouched, pristine canvas. The snow shimmered under the midday sun, resembling a scattering of tiny jewels across the ground. Only delicate, winding animal tracks disrupted the thick, white layer that enveloped everything.

Tall, majestic pines loomed around her, their branches laden with snow, bending gently beneath its weight. Occasionally, a gust of wind would send a flurry of flakes tumbling from the branches. For a brief moment, Éléanor closed her eyes, enjoying the silence that enveloped her.

She focused on the sharp, icy air that bit at her cheeks and the gentle sound of snowflakes drifting down from the sky. A few flakes tangled in her hair, softly brushing her face before melting away. Éléanor smiled, savouring the tranquillity and the unmistakable chill of winter that she had missed so much.

With another deep breath, she opened her eyes and looked towards her little cabin, nestled among the towering pines. The wooden retreat, with its dark timber walls, stood in stark contrast to the snowy landscape. Frosted windows reflected the sun's soft glow, casting a warm, golden light across the snow-covered ground. Over the years, this place has become her sanctuary, where she returns every winter. No bustling café to manage, no customers to serve—just the stillness of nature and the quiet flow of her creativity.

She knew it would be bitterly cold inside, but her trusty fireplace would soon take care of that. Pulling her coat tighter around herself, Éléanor grabbed her bags from the back seat and took in the familiar sight of her cosy cabin.

The snow crunched under her boots as she trudged through the ankle-deep powder towards the front door, mentally noting that she would have to clear the path later.

With a push, she opened the door and sighed in relief.  Inside, the scent of aged pine wood welcomed her, and the warmth of the cabin sharply contrasted with the chill outside.

The place was small and rustic but perfect for her. A fireplace sat in the centre of the main room, with a plush armchair and a soft couch in front of it.  To the right was a small kitchen that always smelled faintly of fresh bread. In the far corner, large windows revealed a breathtaking view of the snow-covered mountains.

She set her luggage down by the door and took a moment to take it all in. A satisfied smile tugged at her lips.

She was home.

After shrugging off her coat and scarf, she unzipped her suitcase and carefully pulled out two of her most precious items. The first was her sketchbook, its well-worn cover filled with memories of past trips, sketches of café patrons and fleeting scenes from her travels. She held it fondly, flipping through a few pages to find her latest watercolour drawing—an old cathedral from back home in France, bathed in the golden hues of a setting sun. Smiling at the piece, she set the sketchbook gently on the small table by the window, a spot she knew she would spend countless hours by over the coming days.

Next, she reached into the suitcase and brought out a small, carefully wrapped container. Unwrapping it, she revealed her beloved sourdough starter, Jacques, alive and well, despite the journey.

“You made it, mon cher,” she whispered affectionately, holding the container close as if greeting an old friend. 

Jacques had been with her for years, travelling wherever she went, and every loaf of bread she baked carried a bit of home within it—he was an essential part of her café back home. She placed him on the kitchen counter and popped the lid off to let him breathe.

With Jacques settled and her sketchbook ready, Éléanor took the rest of her time to unpack, folding her clothes neatly into the cabin’s wooden dresser and laying out her art supplies.

Several days passed in peaceful solitude, just as Éléanor had wished.

Her mornings were spent sketching by the large window that overlooked the snowy forest; the light from the rising sun cast a golden glow over the snowy land, and she captured the way the rays shifted through the trees in delicate watercolour strokes. Afternoons were reserved for baking, as the enticing aroma of sourdough wafted through the cabin while she tried out various recipes, each loaf turning out more delicious than the last. In the evenings, she curled up by the fire with a good book, savouring the quiet and the crackle of the burning wood.

One evening, as she was tidying up after a long day of painting, her phone buzzed on the kitchen counter. Wiping her hands on a towel, she picked it up and smiled as her best friend's name appeared on the screen.

“Bonsoir, ma chérie!” Virginie’s voice was bright and lively, a stark contrast to the quiet surrounding Éléanor. The sound of music and laughter echoed in the background. “Guess where I am!”

Éléanor chuckled, already knowing the answer. “In Spain, of course. How wild is it this time?”

“Wild!” Virginie exclaimed, nearly shouting over the noise. “I’m at this incredible party—everyone’s dancing and I’m halfway through my second bottle of wine! You should see it, Éléanor. How are you surviving up there in the mountains, all by yourself?”

Éléanor laughed, picturing her best friend surrounded by a whirlwind of music, people, and bright lights. “You know I prefer the quiet. Besides, the snow is beautiful, and I’ve got my art to keep me busy.”

“Sure, sure, your art,” Virginie teased. “Let me guess, you’re sitting there with your sketchbook, sipping tea like some brooding artist.”

“Not just that,” Éléanor said, her voice light. “I’ve been baking too. Jacques has been very productive.”

There was a long pause, and then Virginie’s voice came back, incredulous. “Oh my God. Don’t tell me you actually brought the damn sourdough starter with you!” Éléanor could practically hear the eye-roll over the phone. “You seriously dragged Jacques all the way to Sweden?”

Éléanor grinned. “Of course I did. I couldn’t leave him behind; he’d die.”

“Éléanor,” Virginie groaned, laughter bubbling in her voice. “You’re ridiculous. You brought a jar of bacteria to your winter getaway. No wonder you’re still single—you’re in a committed relationship with bread dough! You really need to get laid, ma belle.”

Éléanor burst out laughing. “Hey, Jacques and I are very happy together, thank you very much.”

“I’m serious! You’re too young to be cooped up in the mountains with Jacques. What you need is to be at this party with me, drinking wine and meeting someone who isn’t yeast-based.”

Éléanor shook her head, still smiling. “Maybe next year, Virginie. But you know I love it up here. The peace, the quiet—no distractions. Just me, my art, and my bread.”

“Ugh, you’re hopeless,” Virginie said dramatically. “But fine, if you want to keep having your mountain romance with Jacques, that’s on you. Just remember that I’m living my best life here! Next year, though, you’re coming with me. No more hiding away in the woods.”

“We’ll see,” Éléanor replied, though they both knew the answer. “I’ll think about it, okay?”

“Hm, I’ll take that as a maybe!” Virginie’s voice softened a little. “Don’t be too lonely, alright? I’ll be back in France soon, and we’ll catch up. Love you, ma belle.”

“Love you too, Virginie. Have fun!” Éléanor hung up, a fond smile lingering on her lips. Virginie’s energy was infectious, and their friendship balanced each other perfectly. While Virginie craved the buzz of parties and crowds, Éléanor preferred the stillness of moments like this—just her and the quiet comfort of the mountains.

She moved through her nighttime routine with the ease of familiarity. Brushing her teeth, washing her face, changing into warm pyjamas, and braiding her wild hair to keep it in check. She took one last look at her sketchbook, then at Jacques, making sure everything was in its place before heading to bed. The cabin was quiet; the silence was only broken by the distant howling of the wind outside.

As she drifted off to sleep, the peacefulness of the mountains surrounded her, a comforting embrace that lulled her into dreams of soft snow and watercolour landscapes.

In the dead of night, Éléanor stirred, hearing the faint crunch of tyres on the snow and the sound of a car engine rumbling outside. She sat up in bed, her heart pounding in the sudden silence that followed. It was rare to hear anything but the wind and the occasional call of an owl this far up in the mountains. Curious and slightly wary, she slipped out of bed and made her way to the window.

Pulling back the curtain just a fraction, she peered out into the dark night and noticed the soft glow of headlights cutting through the darkness, illuminating the cabin beside hers.

A man stepped out of the car, tall and broad-shouldered, his face hidden beneath the shadows of the night.  He unloaded bags from the trunk with practised ease. Éléanor’s brow furrowed. She hadn’t expected company up here. Most people avoided the mountains in the depths of winter unless they had a specific reason to be there.

Éléanor watched him for a moment, her curiosity piqued. The neighbouring cabin was often vacant during the winter, so it was unusual to see anyone here, especially at this hour. He moved quickly and efficiently without much noise. Maybe he was just another quiet visitor, someone like her, seeking solitude.

With a quiet huff, she pulled back from the window and returned to bed. She wasn’t here to meet strangers. Seclusion was what she’d come for, and that’s what she intended to keep—no matter who had arrived next door.

Still, as she drifted back to sleep, a part of her wondered who he was and why he was here in the same remote corner of the world.

_____

The next morning, she woke to a bright, crisp day. The sunlight streamed through the large cabin windows, illuminating the fresh snowfall that blanketed the landscape outside. The snow glittered under the early light, creating a world that looked almost magical, untouched, and pure.

Still wrapped in the warmth of her bed, Éléanor let out a soft sigh, listening to the silence that filled the cabin. It was the kind of quiet she craved—no sounds of cars or people, just the occasional soft creak of the old wood settling and the gentle crackle of embers from the fireplace. She loved these mornings. The snow had a way of making everything feel slower and more peaceful.

Stretching lazily, she threw on a thick sweater and made her way to the kitchen, her bare feet padding against the cool wooden floors. The familiar sight of her sketchbook left open from the previous night’s work, caught her eye, and she smiled as she passed it. The half-finished watercolour of the mountains stood stark against the white paper, still waiting for the finishing details.

She filled the kettle with water and began preparing her usual morning tea, humming softly to herself. The cabin smelled faintly of pine and the lingering scent of sourdough bread from the previous day.

Just as the kettle started to whistle, a knock at the door interrupted the stillness. Éléanor frowned, glancing at the door in surprise. She wasn’t expecting anyone. Cautiously, she walked over to the front door and opened it, the rush of cold air making her tighten her sweater around herself. 

Standing on her porch was the man she had seen arriving last night—the one who had moved into the neighbouring cabin. He was bundled up against the cold, his thick jacket dusted with snow as his broad-shouldered frame filled the doorway. 

She noticed his striking face: a sharp jawline, high cheekbones, and a straight nose that gave him an effortlessly handsome look. Beneath the knitted hat that covered his ears, wisps of light brown hair peeked out, and a trace of stubble ran along his jawline, growing denser along his upper lip.

His breath puffed in small clouds as he smiled at her, his blue eyes catching the light of the morning sun. 

Éléanor blinked, momentarily distracted by how impossibly good-looking he was. He looked like someone who should have been on a magazine cover rather than standing on her snow-covered porch.

“Hey,” he greeted her with a smile that was equal parts charming and boyish. “I’m Patrick. I’m staying next door.”

His voice was smooth, deep, and easy, with a friendly tone that instantly made her feel at ease. Despite the cold air biting at her cheeks, Éléanor couldn’t help but feel warmth spreading through her.

She hadn’t expected him to introduce himself, let alone in person. His presence felt oddly natural, though, as if he belonged in this quiet landscape. Still, it took her a moment to respond.

“Hi,” she finally said, offering a small smile in return. “I’m Éléanor. Nice to meet you.”

Patrick’s smile widened, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I was just shovelling the snow off my driveway,” he explained, nodding toward his cabin. “Figured I’d offer to do yours, too, since I’m already out here.”

Éléanor blinked, caught off guard by his offer. She wasn’t used to anyone offering to help in these parts—usually, everyone who came to the mountains was looking for the same solitude she was. But there was something in his demeanour that felt genuine and unassuming.

“Oh,” she hesitated, glancing at her snow-covered driveway. “That’s very kind of you, but you really don’t have to.”

Patrick interrupted with a light shrug. “It’s no trouble. It’s not like I have much else going on today.”

His easygoing nature and the relaxed way he stood there, his breath puffing in the cold air, made it hard for Éléanor to refuse. She smiled despite herself, her cheeks flushing—not just from the cold.

“Well, if you’re sure… then thank you,” she said softly.

He gave her a friendly nod and turned to walk back down her porch steps, heading towards his own cabin to grab a shovel. His movements were smooth and purposeful, and something about how he carried himself made it clear he was used to being in control. He moved with confidence but not arrogance—just a natural, effortless ease.

As he began shovelling, Éléanor couldn’t help but admire him from the warmth of her cabin. 

His strong arms worked steadily as he cleared the snow, his shoulders flexing under his jacket with each movement. She was mesmerised by the way the light played off his sharp features, the concentration on his face as he worked, and the quiet determination in his posture.

Unable to resist, she reached for her sketchbook. She pulled it towards her and settled by the window, the natural light casting soft shadows across the page.

Her fingers quickly flew across the page as she began sketching his form — his strong, defined lines against the snow, the contrast of his dark jacket against the bright white. She sketched him from different angles, flipping through the pages and trying to capture every detail: the way he held the shovel, the curve of his back, and even the way the sunlight glinted off the snow in front of him.

Soon enough, she added watercolours, bringing the scene to life with soft washes of blues and greys to reflect the snowy landscape and the warm hues of his complexion.

Before long, Patrick had finished, and the driveway was now clear of snow. Éléanor watched as he wiped the back of his hand across his brow, exhaling a puff of visible breath. She watched as he took a step back, admiring his work for a brief moment before glancing back toward her cabin.

Éléanor snapped her sketchbook shut, suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious. She had just spent the last hour drawing him without his knowledge, and she wasn’t sure how he would react if he knew. 

Deciding to thank him properly, Éléanor brewed a fresh pot of tea and poured two steaming mugs. She bundled herself up and stepped out onto the porch, her boots crunching on the freshly cleared snow.

“Patrick!” she called out, holding up one of the mugs. “I made you some tea. Thought you might want something warm after all that work.”

Patrick glanced up, a smile tugging at his lips. He wiped his hands on his jacket and made his way towards her. As he took the mug from her, their fingers brushed for a moment, and Éléanor felt a tiny, unexpected spark shoot through her. The casual intimacy of the touch caught her off guard, and she couldn’t help but steal a glance at his hands.

His hands, though warm from holding the mug, were still slightly reddened from the cold. They were large and strong, with well-defined knuckles and carefully groomed nails. Éléanor quickly looked away, hoping he had not noticed her lingering gaze.

“Thanks,” he said, taking a sip of the tea. “Perfect timing.”

They sat down on the porch steps together, the steam from their mugs swirling into the cold air. The world around them was still and silent. The only sounds were the distant wind and the crunch of snow underfoot as the snow-capped mountains glistened under the sun.

“So,” Patrick started after a few sips, “what brings you up here? You live around here, or are you just visiting?”

Éléanor shook her head. “No, I’m from France originally. I run a café back home with my best friend, but I come here every winter to take a break…It’s kind of my personal retreat.”

Patrick raised his eyebrows, looking genuinely impressed. “France, huh? I would’ve guessed Europe from your accent, but I didn’t know where exactly.”

She chuckled softly, her cheeks warming. “Yeah, I guess it’s pretty noticeable.”

“Trust me, it’s not a bad thing,” he replied, his eyes meeting hers briefly, and the sincerity in his voice made her blush a little more. 

The sunlight caught his eyes as he spoke, making them an even brighter blue—like the sky on a perfect day, clear and inviting. Éléanor found herself momentarily lost in them, wondering how a man could have eyes like that, so sharp yet kind. 

“What about you?” she asked, turning the conversation back to him. “What brings you to these mountains?”

Patrick shrugged, taking another sip of tea. “Same as you, I guess. Needed to get away, clear my head. It’s hard to find this kind of quiet anywhere else.”

Éléanor found herself nodding along, appreciating the easy flow of conversation. Despite his rugged, handsome appearance, Patrick didn’t seem to have the air of someone looking to impress or be impressed. He was easygoing and comfortable in his own skin, and it put her at ease.

“So, what do you do when you’re not shovelling strangers’ driveways?” she asked, giving him a teasing smile.

Patrick chuckled, the sound rich and warm. “I’m in… entertainment, I guess you could say,” he said vaguely, his tone nonchalant.

Éléanor didn’t press further. She didn’t have much interest in prying into someone’s life, especially when she had come here for peace and solitude. For now, Patrick was simply a kind man who had helped her out—and, as it turned out, was excellent company.

They fell into a comfortable silence for a moment, sipping their tea and gazing out at the snowy landscape. Patrick’s broad shoulders were relaxed as he leaned back slightly, his long legs stretched out in front of him, the fabric of his jeans hugging the strong lines of his thighs.

As their conversation drifted back to light topics—the weather, the beauty of the mountains—Éléanor couldn’t help but wonder about the man sitting next to her. There was something familiar about him, something that tugged at the edges of her memory, but she couldn’t quite place it.

But she let the thought slip away. For now, it didn’t matter. 

As the sun climbed higher in the sky, warming the porch ever so slightly, Éléanor realised just how much she was enjoying Patrick’s company.

“You know,” Éléanor said thoughtfully as she glanced over at Patrick, “I’m not used to having company up here. But… this is nice.”

Patrick looked at her, his expression softening. “Yeah. It is.”

[dommnics]

Just a look at the Arthur and Mera designs separately.

--

Check out more of my work on other platforms!

My Instagram -- My Twitter

[groundrunner100]

A bigger debate than real world politics.

[amberheardnet]

amber heard at comic con (2018).

[lands-of-fantasy]

DCEU (2013-23)

1. Man of Steel (2013) 2. Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice (2016) 3. Suicide Squad (2016) 4. Wonder Woman (2017) 5. Justice League (2017) | Zack Snyder’s Justice League (2021) 6. Aquaman (2018)

7. Shazam! (2019) 8. Birds of Prey (and The Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn) (2020) 9. Wonder Woman 1984 (2020) 10. The Suicide Squad (2021) 11. Peacemaker Season 1 (2022)

12. Black Adam (2022) 13. Shazam! Fury of the Gods (2023) 14. The Flash (2023) 15. Blue Beetle (2023) 16. Aquaman and The Lost Kingdom (2023)

----------------------------------------------------

Despite the upcoming reboot of the DC movie universe, Peacemaker will also be considered a part the new continuity (DCU), with a confirmed second season in the works. Viola Davis will also return as Amanda Waller. Blue Beetle might also make a comeback.

[chasing-caws]

Orm is such a dramatic theater kid in the first movie; the way he shouts as he enters the ring of fire, the way he projects his voice when he says “rise Atlantis!” The way he projects his voice when he shouts “attack” when Arthur appears with the Karathen, he lives for the drama

[letthewhumpbegin]

Aquaman (2018)

[caribbean1989]

"Permission to come aboard?"

Aquaman (2018)

[superherocaps]

[gracelaurie]

𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ꒰ঌ ♡ ໒꒱ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ꒰ঌ ♡ ໒꒱ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ꒰ঌ ♡ ໒꒱ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ꒰ঌ

all my Patrick Wilson fanfics including (Aquaman, Insidious, and Conjuring)

1. Orm Marius

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7

part 8 prequel (coming soon)

2. Patrick Wilson

- Series

CHAPTER 1 CHAPTER 2 SEQUEL

- Oneshoot

My Man (Patrick Wilson x Female Reader)

3. Josh Lambert

You’re Mine | Josh Lambert x Reader

4. Ed Warren

Innocent | Ed Warren x Reader

[doormatty3]

Blizzards and Beef Stew - Chapter 5 (Patrick Wilson x FOC)

Masterlist Ao3

Blizzards and Beef Stew Masterlink

Summary

[Patrick Wilson x Original Female Character] [Patrick Wilson x Original Character] Éléanor had always adored winter: its snow, its crisp air. But what she treasured most was retreating to her cosy cabin in the Swedish mountains. There, she could bake, sketch, and enjoy the solitude, far from the noise of the world. At least, that’s how it used to be—until a new neighbour arrived. Patrick Wilson was tall, charming, and with a smile that seemed to melt the coldest days. As they struck up a friendship, Éléanor found herself drawn to him, even though he remained oddly secretive about his last name and evasive about his work. But when a fierce snowstorm trapped them both, it became clear that Patrick might just be the warmth she needed in more ways than one. OR: Patrick uses his body to warm up Éléanor in the snowy mountains.

Wordcount: 3535

A/N: and the smut begins - god what I'd give to be warmed like this in the mountains

As the kiss deepened, Éléanor’s hands roamed over his back, feeling the muscles ripple beneath her touch. She arched her back, pressing against him, desperate to feel more of him as her underwear clung uncomfortably to her wet pussy. She felt his hard cock pressing against her through his clothes whenever he shifted and moved.

But then, as if realising where this was heading, Patrick paused, his breath coming in shallow bursts. His eyes searched hers, the intensity in them making her pulse race even faster. 

“Éléanor,” he breathed, his voice low and husky. “I don’t want to rush you… or anything.”

The sincerity in his voice, the way he was so attuned to her feelings, made her heart ache in the best possible way. She smiled softly, brushing her fingers along his cheek, feeling his stubble scratch her fingertips, her own breath unsteady. “You’re not,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “I want this too.”

The relief that crossed his face was palpable, and without another word, he kissed her again, this time with a passion that left no doubt about where this was going. 

His hands slid under the flannel shirt she wore, pushing it higher, his fingers teasing against her bare skin in a way that made her gasp. Éléanor’s body responded instinctively, arching into him, craving more of his touch.

Patrick was gentle but insistent, a contrast to the intense heat of the moment. His hands, so confident and capable, withdrew from underneath her shirt and shifted to her front. With practised ease, he found the buttons of the flannel and undid them one by one. 

Each click of the button being released seemed to echo in the intimate space between them, a rhythmic accompaniment to their heavy breathing. The shirt fell open gradually, revealing more of her skin to the flickering firelight and the cold air in the cabin.

Patrick’s gaze was locked on hers, his eyes dark with a mixture of desire and tenderness as he exposed her. The warmth from the fire caught the glow of her skin, casting a soft, golden hue over her shoulders and the swell of her breasts. 

“Éléanor,” he murmured, his voice a rough whisper filled with awe as he continued to undress her. “You’re... so beautiful.”

She felt herself blushing as his fingers brushed lightly over her exposed skin, sending shivers across her body. 

The contact was electrifying, and she could feel the heat of his body radiating towards her, mingling with the warmth of the fire.

As Patrick’s hands continued to work their way down the remaining buttons, Éléanor’s own hands were not idle. They roamed over his chest, feeling the hard planes of his muscles, tracing the contours of his shoulders and the smooth, warm skin beneath. 

Once the final button was undone, the flannel shirt fell open, the fabric pooling around her waist. Patrick’s eyes never left hers as he gently pushed the shirt aside, his touch reverent as he explored the newly exposed skin. 

His fingers skated lightly over her shoulders, down her arms, and back up to trace the delicate curves of her collarbone. 

Éléanor’s breath caught as Patrick’s lips followed the path his fingers had traced, leaving a trail of warm, feather-light kisses along her shoulder and collarbone. 

The sensation of his warm mouth against her skin was both thrilling and soothing, each kiss making her squirm with pleasure and leaving a mark of fire against her chilled skin. 

The warmth from the fire made his skin feel almost feverish as his hands found her breasts. His fingers, rough yet gentle, traced the contours of her curves, making their way to her nipples, which hardened under his touch. 

Each caress, each playful tug sent waves of pleasure radiating through her, her cunt clenching around nothing.

Ragged gasps left her lips as Patrick’s mouth travelled lower, his breath hot and uneven as he kissed, licked, and nibbled.

He dipped his head down to leave hot, open-mouthed kisses across her breasts. He paid meticulous attention to every sensitive area.

Éléanor’s moans grew louder, her body arching and writhing against him as she felt the growing pressure of her desire, her cunt throbbing dully. 

Her hands roamed over his back, feeling the tension in his muscles and the heat of his skin. She could feel his hard cock pressing against her, and her hands moved urgently to his waistband—she was aching to feel him, to be filled by him.

Patrick helped by lifting his hips, and his eyes locked onto hers with a blend of desire and anticipation.

Together, they pushed his joggers and boxer shorts down, his fully erect cock springing free and leaving him completely bare.

Éléanor’s gaze fell onto his hard dick that stood out proudly against his abdomen. It was big—long and thick in a way that made her clench her thighs in anticipation of how he’d feel inside her. 

She watched as Patrick wrapped a fist around the base and squeezed to relieve some of the pressure. He was gorgeous in the half-light, his skin shining with sweat as the flickering flames painted intricate patterns on his heaving chest.

He kissed her deeply again, his hands moving to her pants with equal urgency. As he helped her remove them, she felt the cool air on her overheated skin, causing her to shiver with anticipation. 

Patrick’s hand slid down over her stomach, his fingers trailing lower until they found the edge of her underwear. He paused, pulling back slightly to look at her, his eyes darkened with lust but still questioning, still asking for permission even now.

Éléanor nodded, her breath coming out in shallow gasps. “Please.”

That was all he needed. 

Patrick hooked his fingers into the waistband of her panties and slowly pulled them down, his knuckles brushing against her skin as he did. The firelight caught every movement, making the moment feel almost surreal, as though they were the only two people in the world.

His gaze was locked on Éléanor's as he pulled her closer, his breath hot against her skin. With a mix of urgency and tenderness, his fingers began to explore her once more, their touch now more focused and determined.

He gently parted her legs, his fingers brushing against her thighs with a possessive heat. As he traced a path toward her sex, his touch was deliberate, each movement a blend of teasing and intense pressure.

Patrick’s middle finger found her clit, the rounded tip pressing and circling with a steady rhythm. Éléanor’s breath hitched, her body arching towards his touch as the sensation intensified. His movements were smooth and calculated, his fingers applying just the right amount of pressure to make her gasp with every stroke.

His touch grew more confident, his fingers slipping lower to explore her entrance. He teased her with gentle caresses, his fingertips dipping inside her with a slow rhythm. Each movement was calculated to heighten her pleasure, his touch building a steady crescendo that left her yearning for more.

Éléanor’s moans grew louder, her body shaking with the intensity of her arousal. Patrick’s fingers continued their relentless exploration. His touch was both rough and tender, a contrast that made the sensations even more intense.

“You’re so wet,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire as it rumbled in the quiet space between them. 

Éléanor’s body trembled under his touch, her moans escaping uncontrollably as she gripped his shoulders, feeling herself being driven to the edge by his expert touch.

“Patrick…” she breathed, her voice a barely audible whisper as her hips instinctively moved in sync with his fingers. Her need for him was overwhelming, her desire nearly consuming her as he worked her into a frenzy with his two thick, capable fingers.

He curled them inside her, pressing against that sensitive spot deep within her cunt. Éléanor’s breath hitched, a sharp gasp escaping her lips as he hit the perfect angle. His thumb brushed over her clit again, adding an extra layer of intense pleasure.

“Please,” she begged, her voice rough and breathy with need, her fingers tangling in his curls as she pulled him into a fervent kiss. The kiss was passionate, a desperate attempt to bridge the gap between their intertwined bodies.

Suddenly, Patrick pulled his fingers out, leaving her feeling empty and yearning. 

He cupped her face gently, his touch tender against her flushed skin, as he pulled away from the kiss. The abrupt shift left Éléanor’s cunt still tingling with desire, her body craving the connection that had been so abruptly interrupted.

She let out a protesting whimper and arched her back, desperate for more.

Patrick’s eyes locked onto hers, a mixture of heat and barely constrained want flickering in his gaze. He leaned in and captured her lips in a deep, hungry kiss and hovered over Éléanor, his chest rising and falling heavily, their breaths mingling as the heat between them intensified. 

His cock brushed against her entrance, teasing her, the anticipation driving them both wild. 

Éléanor’s hands gripped his back, pulling him closer, urging him to stop teasing. 

He let out a low groan, the sensation almost too much to bear as he rubbed against her, the tip of his cock gliding over her wetness, sending shivers through them both. The firelight flickered, casting a warm glow on their skin, highlighting the raw desire in Patrick’s eyes.

She was sure that he could bend you in half if he wanted and use the strength he held in his broad frame to pound her into this couch until he broke it—broke her. 

Éléanor bucked her hips against him again, whimpering and begging as she felt the broad head of his hard dick on her cunt, slick with her wetness and his precum.

Then, without warning, he finally pushed the tip of his cock inside her, just enough for them both to feel the intensity of it. Éléanor gasped at the sudden stretch, her fingers digging into his back, arching her back, wanting more, needing more.

But then Patrick suddenly froze, his breath catching in his throat as reality crashed down on him. 

He pulled back slightly, his hard cock slipping out again, leaving her empty once more. His body tensed up in a way that made Éléanor’s heart race in confusion.

“Wait,” he said, his voice rough and breathless yet laced with urgency. He swallowed hard, trying to gather his thoughts, his body trembling with desire but his mind racing with the sudden awareness of the risk.

“Wait—wait,” Patrick muttered again, his voice tight, almost panicked. He pulled away completely, sitting back on his heels, his expression shifting from desire to something more like fear.

Éléanor blinked, trying to understand. Her body was still buzzing from everything, her mind racing to catch up. Everything had been perfect just moments ago, but now Patrick was suddenly pulling away, clearly agitated. His face was flushed, and he seemed almost frantic. 

“What? What’s wrong?”  she asked, her breath still coming in uneven gasps as she tried to understand, her eyes searched his with a mix of frustration and concern, her mind still caught in a haze of blissful want. “Patrick… nothing happened. Why are you freaking out?”

Patrick ran a hand through his tousled hair, his agitation evident in the sharpness of his movements. His expression was tight, a mix of panic and frustration. “We didn’t use a condom,” he said, his voice strained. The realisation seemed to hit him all at once, like a punch to the gut. “I didn’t even think... God, I didn’t even think .”

Éléanor stared at him, bewildered, her brow furrowing in confusion. She could still feel the echo of the heat they’d shared, the intensity of the moment between them, but now that was being replaced by a strange sense of disorientation.

He was freaking out about this? This was why he’d stopped?

He looked at her, clearly still caught in his own spiralling thoughts, his hand running through his hair again as if trying to make sense of it all. “We didn’t use protection, Éléanor,” he repeated as if the words alone should explain everything. His tone was still tinged with worry. “I didn’t even think about it, and I should’ve—”

“Patrick.” Her voice was firmer now, breaking through his panic as she cut him off. She sat up slightly, facing him, her eyes locked on his. “I’m on the pill. It’s fine.”

Éléanor hadn’t even considered the possibility of STDs in the heat of the moment. She was too wrapped up in his presence, too caught in the intensity between them. Besides, she trusted him inexplicably. It was strange, really—this unspoken certainty that he wouldn’t hurt her, wouldn’t do anything harmful. 

But that made the sudden rejection sting even more. The fact that he’d pulled away, that he didn’t seem to feel the same ease, hit harder than she expected.

“Do…you think I’d babytrap you? Or give you some STD?” The words slipped out before she could stop herself.

Patrick’s eyes widened in shock, and he quickly shook his head, his voice coming out in a rush.“No, no! That’s not it at all. I just—I wasn’t thinking, and I don’t want to take any chances.” 

He looked rattled, his hands hovering in the air as if he didn’t quite know where to put them. It was almost as if he couldn’t figure out how to express the jumble of thoughts racing through his head.

Éléanor let out a breath, sitting up more, the firelight reflecting in her eyes as she looked at him. “Patrick, it’s okay,” she said softly, her tone calming, trying to ease the tension that had suddenly taken over the room. “You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s just... you stopped before anything happened.”

He stared at her for a moment, his chest still rising and falling rapidly, his mind clearly racing. “I just... I panicked,” he admitted, running a hand over his face. “I didn’t want to risk anything, but I wasn’t thinking .”

Reaching out, Éléanor rested her hand on his arm, her touch light but reassuring. “Hey, it’s okay,” she repeated, her voice steady. “I get it. But we can fix this.” She gave him a small smile, hoping to reassure him. “You have condoms, right?”

Patrick exhaled, some of the tension leaving his shoulders as her words started to sink in. He nodded, though he still looked a little embarrassed by how everything had played out. “Yeah, I do,” he said quietly.

Éléanor’s smile widened, warmth returning to the moment. She leaned back into the couch, her hand sliding gently over his back, her touch soothing. “Then go get one,” she said, her voice soft but sure. “It’s fine.”

For a long moment, Patrick just sat there, staring at Éléanor as if trying to process her calmness. His chest rose and fell quickly, the remnants of his earlier panic still evident in his eyes. 

Slowly, a sheepish smile began to tug at the corners of his lips, soft and uncertain. “Okay,” he finally said, his voice quiet but steady. “I’ll be right back.”

He stood quickly, his cock still half-hard hanging between his legs, bouncing slightly as he crossed the small space to where his bag sat near the corner of the room. 

The soft glow of the firelight cast shadows along his bare back, the muscles of his shoulders and arms flexing as he knelt down, rummaging through his belongings. His movements were hurried, his fingers searching frantically until he finally pulled out a small foil packet. 

Holding it in his hand, he paused for a moment, staring down at it before turning back toward Éléanor.

When Patrick sat down beside her again, condom in hand, Éléanor couldn’t help but tease him, her voice light and playful, the words meant to ease the remaining tension. “See? Crisis averted,” she said with a grin, her eyes sparkling with warmth.

Patrick let out a breath he didn’t seem to realise he was holding. His shoulders visibly relaxed as he sank back onto the couch, the tight lines of worry on his face softening. 

He chuckled softly, though the sound was still tinged with a hint of embarrassment, his eyes avoiding hers for a moment as he fumbled to place the condom on the table beside them.

But as they sat there, side by side, the fire casting flickering shadows over their faces, Éléanor noticed something had shifted. 

The sharp edge of their earlier desire had softened, dulled by the sudden wave of panic. The firelight still danced over Patrick’s bare chest, illuminating the lean muscles beneath his skin, but the urgency was gone. 

Patrick wasn’t hard anymore, and as she adjusted her position slightly, Éléanor realised that she felt the same. The intensity had ebbed, leaving behind only a soft warmth, a sense of closeness that wasn’t driven by lust but by something gentler, more intimate.

The moment had passed.

She sighed softly, her gaze drifting to Patrick’s face. His blue eyes still held a lingering flicker of tension, the remnants of his earlier anxiety clear in the way his brow furrowed slightly, his lips pressing together in uncertainty. 

But beneath it all, there was warmth in his eyes—a vulnerability that made Éléanor’s heart soften. She reached out, cupping his cheek with one hand, her thumb brushing lightly over the rough stubble on his jaw. His skin was warm under her fingers, a contrast to the cool air around them.

Patrick’s eyes met hers, his gaze steady but searching as if he were still waiting for reassurance. She gave him a small, soft smile, leaning in to press her lips against his in a gentle kiss. 

There was no urgency in the kiss, no hunger—just a soft, slow connection. She lingered there for a moment, letting the warmth of his lips seep into her before pulling back just slightly, her hand still cradling his face.

“Maybe it’s better if we just cuddle for now,” she whispered her voice low and tender, each word wrapped in understanding. Her fingers moved gently over his jaw, tracing the line of his cheekbone as she looked into his eyes, hoping he could see the sincerity in her expression. “There’s no rush, Patrick.”

Patrick closed his eyes briefly, his chest rising and falling as he let out a long, deep breath. 

The tension seemed to drain from his body, his shoulders finally relaxing completely as he leaned into her touch. His hand came up to cover hers on his face, his fingers warm and reassuring as they curled around her smaller hand. 

When he opened his eyes again, there was a soft, almost relieved smile playing on his lips.

“Yeah…” he breathed, his voice quiet and full of gratitude. “That sounds nice.”

Éléanor smiled in return, her heart swelling with affection as she shifted on the couch, pulling the soft blanket up around them both. She leaned back into the cushions, feeling Patrick move with her, his body warm and solid against her side as he settled in beside her. He wrapped his arms around her waist, drawing her close, and she nestled into the crook of his arm, her head resting on his shoulder.

The fire crackled softly in the hearth, its warmth spreading through the room, chasing away the chill that lingered in the air. The flames danced, casting long, flickering shadows on the walls, their light a comforting presence in the dimly lit room. 

Patrick’s arms tightened around her slightly, pulling her closer as they curled up together on the couch. She could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest, the rhythmic thrum of his heartbeat under her ear. It was soothing, that steady beat, and she let herself sink into the comfort of it, the warmth of his body lulling her into a state of calm.

For a while, they lay there in silence, simply holding each other, wrapped in the quiet intimacy of the moment. The earlier panic and urgency had melted away, replaced by a sense of contentment, a shared understanding that they didn’t need to rush anything. 

They had time. 

There was no pressure, no expectation—just the warmth of the fire, the comfort of each other’s presence, and the soft, steady rhythm of their breathing in sync.

Patrick’s hand moved gently, his fingers tracing small, soothing patterns along her arm, his touch light and tender. Éléanor closed her eyes, letting herself relax completely into his embrace, feeling safe and secure in his arms. The storm outside seemed distant now, a world away from the quiet cocoon they had created here, wrapped in blankets and each other.

His lips pressed softly against the top of her head, a gentle kiss that made her smile against his chest. She squeezed his hand in response, feeling a warmth spread through her that had nothing to do with the fire and everything to do with him.

“Thank you,” he whispered softly, the words barely audible, but he knew she heard them. He didn’t need to explain what he was thanking her for—she already knew, and she also knew that this was exactly where she wanted to be.

[dommnics]

I have a soft spot for Aquaman comics. Their stories are so fun!

Here's some designs for Arthur and Mera that I did for fun. Jason Momoa's influence definitely has taken hold of my vision of Aquaman, and I just thought Mera would look cool with a bit more white in her outfit.

--

Check out more of my work on other platforms!

My Instagram -- My Twitter

[scoffingatgravity]

Am I lying?

[womeninfictionandirl]

Mera by Onur Yürek

[lands-of-fantasy]

DCEU Poster Ladies

Amy Adams as Lois Lane

Gal Gadot as Diana Prince / Wonder Woman

Margot Robbie as Dr. Harleen Quinzel / Harley Quinn

Viola Davis as Amanda Waller

Cara Delevingne as June Moone / Enchantress

Karen Fukuhara as Tatsu Yamashiro / Katana

Robin Wright as General Antiope

Connie Nielsen as Queen Hippolyta

Nicole Kidman as Queen Atlanna

Amber Heard as Mera

Jurnee Smollett-Bell as Dinah Lance / Black Canary

Mary Elizabeth Winstead as Helena Bertinelli / The Huntress

Ella Jay Basco as Cassandra Cain

Rosie Perez as Renee Montoya

Kristen Wiig as Dr. Barbara Minerva / Cheetah

Daniela Melchior as Cleo Cazo / Ratcatcher 2

Danielle Brooks as Leota Adebayo

Jennifer Holland as Emilia Harcourt

Quintessa Swindell as Maxine Hunkel / Cyclone

Grace Caroline Currey as Mary Bromfield

Meagan Good as (Adult) Darla Dudley

Rachel Zegler as Anthea / Anne

Helen Mirren as Hespera

Lucy Liu as Kalypso

Sasha Calle as Kara Zor-El / Supergirl

Bruna Marquezine as Jenny Kord

Becky G as the voice of Khaji-Da